


Like Sleep to the Freezing

by gaygh0stt



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, For the most part, I never do, Kisses, M/M, So much angst, a bunch of snapshots, and rewrite t h a t scene, but it's here so, i don't even know what this is, i guess, im sorry, it's just like, it's sweet for awhile, lots of kisses, soft, there's not really a linear plot here, this is just an excuse to write a bunch of kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygh0stt/pseuds/gaygh0stt
Summary: alternatively titled: 5 times Curt and Owen kissed and one time they were never able to
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 26
Kudos: 123





	1. 1952

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly planning on making this a series with Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips, but I decided I couldn't hurt myself like that so here we are instead  
> More Hozier lyric titles, what's new  
> Enjoy the fluff while it lasts  
> *KILL ME NOW I TRIED TO EDIT THIS ON MOBILE AND MY PHONE GLITCHED OUT AND DELETED IT SO HERE WE ARE FOR ROUND TWO

Curt had come to realize that Owen Carvour was anything but an open book. He thought he knew his partner well enough to be able to decipher his inner thoughts, but now he believed that he couldn’t have been more wrong. He had absolutely no clue what was running through Owen’s mind right now.

Curt could feel the storm brewing in his mind, as if it was trying to match the world outside of their window. Owen had been quiet all day and now sat on his bed pretending to read a book. He had been staring at the same page for about an hour; if he was trying to hide the fact that he wasn’t actually reading, he was doing a damn bad job at it. Curt just watched him. He knew Owen could probably feel his eyes on him, but he didn’t care. 

After a few minutes of obvious staring, Owen finally set down his book and turned to face him. “What’s bothering you, Curt?” his voice was soft as he asked, just above a whisper, as if scared to break the silence in the room.

“You’ve been reading that page for an hour.”

Owen chuckled, “I suppose I have... I just got a bit lost in my thoughts I suppose.” Curt couldn’t help but smile at his partner, though not quite sure why. Trying to understand the enigma that was Owen Carvour was a difficult task. 

“What were you thinking about?”

He looked down, “Oh lots of things.” He opened his mouth as if to continue but never did.

Curt laughed at the vague statement, “Anything in particular?”

“Yes.” He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye. Once again, he didn’t elaborate.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

Curt scoffed and shook his head, but never took his eyes off of Owen. In the soft yellow light of their hotel room, Curt thought the other man looked rather beautiful.  _ Oh.  _ Curt blushed and looked away. "Fine, don't tell me then," he said, keeping the teasing tilt to his voice to feign calm. Now it wasn't that he had never thought of Owen as beautiful before, he realized he had that thought a lot, but it still never prepared him for how intense the feeling was. The accompanying urge to kiss him soon followed, as expected, but he fought it down just as he always did. He was trapped in a hotel room with the other man, the storm outside too strong to continue on with their mission. Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

Owen sighed, breaking Curt out of his thoughts. "It's nothing, love, wouldn't want to bother you with my problems." The pet name rolled off his lips so naturally, almost as naturally as Curt's own name. Curt felt like he might melt. He knew he wasn't special, Owen called everyone love, but that didn't stop his heart from picking up speed every time he heard it.

"You can talk to me, I don't mind." Curt hoped his voice didn't give away what he was truly feeling.

"Ar-" Owen hesitated, but his words came soon enough, "Are you sure? You might not like what you hear." Curt's already racing heart sped up,  _ what the hell did that mean?  _ Instead of dwelling on Owen's words, he crossed the room to join Owen on his bed.

"Try me."

Owen swallowed at the unexpected proximity and couldn't seem to meet Curt's eyes. "Well, uh, I mean there's a lot of things…" he trailed off again, "I don't really know where to start."

"Just start wherever you see fit."

Owen let out a shaky breath,  _ what had gotten him so flustered?  _ He normally seemed so confident, what had happened? 

"Sometimes I just wonder if I made the right choice," he started, "you know, going into this business. Other times I feel like there was never another option for me; that if I had never joined then I wouldn't ever truly be myself. I don't think I ever really regret joining though." Curt relished in the sound of his voice, taking in every word he said. Owen had never been this open with him before, he feared he could break it with one wrong move. "I think I'm just scared I'll fuck it up and lose everything." Owen looked back up to Curt, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity in his gaze startled Curt. He felt the familiar race of his heart at what the look could mean. Despite Owen being the one currently laying his heart bare for him to see, Curt was the one who felt uncomfortably exposed.

"I don't think you'll fuck anything up." Curt barely registered the words leaving his mouth, or how he had slowly leaned closer to Owen as he had spoken. He felt hot all over from the proximity, but he didn't move away. Neither did Owen.

Instead, he spoke again, a soft whisper against the pounding rain. "But what if I do?" He waited with bated breath, desperate for an answer or some kind of reassurance. Curt couldn't find the words in him to give an answer. He prayed he wasn't reading into Owen's words wrong, or else he was about to sign himself up for death row. 

Owen's gaze faltered at the lack of response, and Curt settled on his answer. He reached up to cup Owen's cheek, afraid he might shatter if he moved too fast. Owen leaned forward to where their lips just barely brushed; the faintest whisper of a touch. Curt took it as permission to finally close the gap, something he had been longing to do for years. He kissed Owen like he was the air he breathed, pouring every pent up emotion into it. Owen returned the sentiment. For that moment the storm had stopped; the pound of rain against the windows ceased and the clouds cleared to let the sun shine down on their shabby hotel. It was bliss. 

He didn't know how long the kiss had lasted, but when he finally pulled away and let his eyes flutter open the rain still beat against the windows and the only light came from the drab little lamp beside them. It was there, in the yellow light of their hotel room, that Curt had first truly felt at home.

Curt repeated his sentiment from earlier, "I don't think you'll fuck anything up, at least not with me."

Owen smiled, accepting the answer for now. Despite the reassuring words he fed him, they both knew that even more was on the stake now. If their secret ever got out, they were done for. Curt didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he ever lost this. If only to distract himself from the looming sense of danger, Curt pressed his lips back to Owen's, drinking in his warmth. Owen smiled against his lips as he leaned back onto the pillows, tangling his fingers in Curt's hair to guide him down with him. However much time they passed like that they didn't know, they just wished that they'd never have to leave.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love writing unbearably soft moments. It really is the calm before the storm.


	2. 1953

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo more soft gays
> 
> these first five chapters are like pure fluff so be ready

Curt had always loved being a spy, especially when he got to work with Owen. Now, he cherished those missions even more. The times he and Owen saw each other were few and far between, maybe a handful of missions every year. It was lonely in between those missions; they never met up outside of missions out of fear of being found out. Maybe one day he and Owen could be together freely. Until then, they were confined to only love each other behind locked doors. 

Curt had to keep telling himself that as they went about their latest mission. It had only been about a month since the last time they saw each other, but he still felt an ache in his heart every time Owen stood a little too close to him or their fingers accidentally brushed. He wanted nothing more than to drag his partner into a dark hallway and kiss him senseless, but that couldn’t happen. So instead, he busied himself with getting another glass of wine.

It was a fairly simple mission; go to a party, get information, steal some documents and book it. But Owen looked absolutely ravishing in his suit, and it was making it very hard for Curt to concentrate. The urge to kiss him was ever-present, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The conversations around him went in one ear and out the other; a constant drone of senseless noise. He wanted to leave, to be anywhere but here, but he had a mission to do and currently, Owen was the one doing all the work. 

Curt was an absolute mess. His usual easy-going charm was gone. He kept throwing nervous glances around the room and fidgeting his fingers. Owen was effortlessly chatting away beside him, no doubt getting loads of information they would need. Curt was being useless, all because he couldn’t control himself around Owen. Curt felt a nudge to his side and startled out of his thoughts. “Huh?” he asked, a little too loudly.

Owen sighed, “Are you alright dear? You’re oddly quiet, I usually can’t get you to shut up.” 

Curt shot him a soft smile, “Yeah I’m fine, just a bit tired I guess. Can’t seem to focus.” Owen studied him for a few seconds before replying.

“Well, I guess we should be heading out,” he leaned in closer to Curt’s ear, snaking an arm around his waist. This time he spoke in a whisper, “I got all the information we needed, the files are in room 217 and the occupants shouldn’t be back until much later.” He started making his way to the exit, keeping one hand on the small of Curt’s back to guide him. The soft touch was driving him crazy; he couldn’t wait to get back to their hotel room. Owen seemed to have the same idea. 

As soon as the door clicked behind them, Owen’s mouth was on his. It was quick and desperate; he clearly had been waiting just as much as Curt. Curt pulled away, “Owen, what if the room’s bugged?” Owen had attached himself to Curt’s neck as he spoke and showed no sign of stopping his attack.

“It’s fine, love.” He kept trailing kisses down the other man’s neck and was slowly moving towards his ear. Curt squirmed under the touch, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. Owen smirked against his neck, letting his breath tickle Curt’s ear. Curt hated this man.

“Owen, really, anyone could walk in right now,” he choked out, “Let’s just get the files and go.” He placed one last chaste kiss to Owen’s lips, “We can continue this later.” 

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, now hurry up,” Curt scoffed. Owen Carvour would truly be the death of him. Owen took a few seconds to rummage around the room, eventually pulling a suitcase out from under one of the beds. He unzipped it and dug through its contents until he found what he was looking for; a latch at the bottom that opened up to a small hidden compartment, the file folder placed neatly inside. Curt laughed again, “How convenient.”

“Yeah, these people really need to find more creative ways to hide their top-secret documents.” Owen flashed him a smile, the twinkle in his eyes visible even in the dim light of the room, “Now let’s get out of here, love, I believe _someone_ owes me a kiss.” Curt rolled his eyes but followed him out regardless. To make sure they were less likely to get caught, they were staying in a hotel a few blocks down from their current building. They walked in silence, for the most part, hands brushing as they walked. It was dark enough out that no one would notice when Curt intertwined his fingers with Owen’s. Owen squeezed his hand in return, giving him a soft smile, but let their hands drop back to their sides after a moment. Even when it seemed no one could be watching, they couldn’t be so careless.

They made it back to their room without trouble, Curt flopping on the bed closest to the door as soon as they entered. Owen busied himself with putting away the documents. Curt sat up and watched him, waiting in silence for his partner to join him. When Owen finally turned back towards him it took Curt’s breath away. His expression was one of pure adoration as he made his to the bed. Curt grabbed his hands and tugged him down to meet his lips, not caring when Owen stumbled into his lap. It was messy and soft all at once, full of the month’s pent up feelings. Every second they had together was one to be cherished, they didn’t have nearly enough time. After a few minutes, Owen pulled away so he could roll to Curt’s side, resting his head on the other man’s chest. They lay like that for a while, Curt’s fingers idly playing with Owen’s hair. Tomorrow they’d turn the files into their superiors and have to go their separate ways; another day’s work done. For now, though, they could be together. 

**…**

Curt strode into Cynthia’s office, awaiting whatever horrors she planned to lecture him about. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be called into her office, it was quite frequently really, but that didn’t stop his nerves from building up. _What if they knew about him and Owen? What if this was the last time he’d be called into this office?_ He knew he was probably just being paranoid; they were always so careful. _Except for that one time._ Curt took a deep breath to calm his nerves, _everything was fine._

Cynthia sat at her desk, barely sparing him a glance as he entered. “Ah, Curt, sit down.” He obliged, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, he couldn’t seem to stop fidgetting these days. Cynthia finally fixed her cold gaze on him. “Now Curt, you know the importance of secrecy in this job, correct?” Curt nodded, swallowing nervously. “Yeah, yeah I thought so,” she pulled a file out of her desk drawer, placing it on the desk between them, “So then tell me, why in the flippity-flappity fuck, do I have pictures of you and Owen knocking lips on the job?” Her voice was calm, despite her harsh words. It was hushed, no one outside of the room would ever hear. 

Curt’s eyes widened as Cynthia pushed the file closer to him. The pictures inside were dark, but it was unmistakable. They were from that last mission, their last _foolish_ mission. How could they have been so careless? Curt gulped and hesitantly met Cynthia’s gaze. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but Cynthia cut him off, “Don’t answer that.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “You better be glad I was the first one to get those pictures, Mega. You’d be worse off than down a job if it had been someone else.”

He stared at her, “Are you firing me?”

“No, but this is your last warning. Don’t be this careless on the job ever again. If it gets out that I helped cover this up, we’d both lose our jobs. I can’t again.” 

“Why are you doing this?”

She met his gaze again, “We all have our reasons, now get out of my office before I change my mind.” Curt understood what she had left unsaid. He left the room with a small smile, but he couldn’t help the ever-growing sense of doom at the thought of what could happen if they were ever caught again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cynthia is a lesbain, you can't change my mind  
> also unrelated to this fic, but I drew [Tatiana](https://gaygh0stt.tumblr.com/post/613704759147364353/im-back-on-my-spies-are-forever-bullshit)! I love her


	3. 1954

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My desire to write soft gay scenes outweighs my desire to keep them in character, so sorry.

Curt opened his eyes, only to screw them shut as soon as the light hit them.  _ God, he felt like shi _ t. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened to lead him here, but he did know that he was in extreme pain. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. His memory was hazy and most of his thoughts were muffled; like he was trying to listen to outside voices with his head pushed underwater. As his mind slowly cleared the events started coming back to him. Their latest mission had not gone exactly as planned. They were reckless in their searching, which is why they’d missed the guards sneaking up on them. Which was why Curt was currently laying on a couch in god knows where covered in bandages and barely conscious. 

The mission had been in London, where Owen lived. It was only supposed to take a few days, a simple stakeout and extraction, and Curt had been staying in his own hotel room instead of with Owen, as to not cause suspicion. But he knew for a fact he was not back in his hotel room. For one, it did not have a couch, nor was it this nice. Having finally recovered enough to open his eyes again, Curt took in the room around him. It was fairly large; a living area and kitchen in one room. He could see a door leading to what he supposed was a bedroom on the wall across from him. It was sparsely furnished, just the bare essentials, as if whoever lived there wasn’t home much. The thought finally dawned on him,  _ this was Owen’s apartment. _

It was the logical place to go after being injured. Carrying a bleeding man into a hotel would have raised suspicion and it’s not like they had anywhere else to go; a hospital would have brought on too many questions and they couldn’t have any police getting involved. So yeah, it was logical, yet it still felt odd. In all their years working together, they had never visited each other’s homes. There was no reason to, related to their jobs at least, and having each other over at random could have given them away; you never know who’s spying on your home when you’re a spy. But now he was in Owen’s apartment, and Owen was nowhere to be seen. 

Curt tried to sit up with a groan, barely able to raise himself up onto his elbows. He looked around the room, scanning for any sign of Owen. The bedroom light was off, so he could be asleep; though that was unlikely seeing as it was still bright out. His eyes finally landed on the far corner of the room. There was a round coffee table atop a rug with a chair on either side, one of which Owen was sitting in, reading a book. His hair was loose and hung in front of his face, unlike his usual slicked back style, and he had glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. _ He was breathtaking.  _

A soft smile worked its way to Curt’s lips. It was rare to see his partner so laid back, it was nice. He hadn’t noticed Curt was awake yet, much too immersed in whatever he was reading. Curt could have watched him all day, but instead, he cleared his throat and let out a hoarse “Owen?” 

Owen’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, quickly abandoning his book to rush to Curt’s side. “Oh thank God you’re awake!” Owen’s hands found his as he let out a soft laugh.

“Yeah, barely.” Curt winced as he tried to sit up more, only to have Owen push him back down.

“Oh, don’t move too much yet, love, we wouldn’t want the wound to reopen,” Owen was trying to sound light, but Curt could tell he was worried about him. His grip was a little too tight on his hand and his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. Curt squeezed his hand back, trying to offer him some reassurance.

“Uh yeah, that’s probably a good idea…” Curt let his eyes wander around the room again, “Nice place you’ve got here.”

Owen chuckled, “I guess, kind of lonely though. I uh guess this is the first time I’ve had you over huh… Pity it had to be under these circumstances…” 

“Hey, it’s alright, I’ve had worse. And so have you.”

“Doesn’t really make it any better, though, does it?”

“No, I guess not. So how did our agencies feel about our little fuck up?”

“Well, not as bad as they could have. You’ll have to stay here until the A.S.S. can send someone to extract you, though. Can’t leave an injured agent unsupervised and what-not.” 

“Oh how horrible that’ll be, stuck here with you,” Curt teased, “Whatever shall I do?”

“Well for starters, you could kiss me,” Owen smiled down at him, “You know, a little payment for saving your life back there.”

Curt scoffed but brought his lips to meet Owen’s nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss; uncharacteristically happy for someone who had recently been stabbed in the gut. “Well, aren’t you needy?” he mumbled against Owen’s lips, “Can’t wait to have me even as I’m bleeding on your couch.”

“Oh sod off, the bleeding stopped hours ago.” Curt laughed, happy to have their playful banter as a distraction. And the kissing. The kissing was a pretty good distraction too. Owen pulled back and let a hand run through Curt’s hair. “Though I guess you’re right, too much kissing could reopen your wound, and we can’t have that, can we?” 

Curt pouted, “Well you fucking asked.” 

“That I did, dear boy, but we all make mistakes.”

“Kissing me, a mistake?” Curt cocked an eyebrow at his partner, who rolled his eyes.

“Clearly, it just stroked your ego.”

“Oh, you love it.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I do.” At that, he met Curt’s lips again. It was only a soft kiss, gone a fast as it had come. “I love you.” Curt’s breath hitched; heart skipping a beat at the unexpected words. He already knew his answer.

“I love you too.” 

…

When the time came for Curt to leave he was met with a crippling feeling of loneliness. It was worse than after other missions, it always was. They kissed one last time, hoping it wouldn’t be their last but knowing that it very well could. That week spent in Owen’s apartment was the best he had had in a long time and he wished he could spend more like that. But the life of a spy was unpredictable, no one knew when they would next see each other, or even if they would see each other again. They could only hope that the world would play in their favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I start online classes today? Yes.  
> Did I still stay up until 2 am to write this? Also yes.


	4. 1955

Curt woke in Owen’s arms. His head lay on Owen’s chest and their legs tangled together underneath the many blankets. It was extremely cold that night, giving them a great excuse to cuddle, even though they didn’t really need one. After a failed mission they had been sent to a safe house together while their agencies worked on apprehending their threats. It was nice, being able to see each other without a mission to focus on. It gave them a small hint of the domestic life they could have had in a different, more accepting world, where they weren’t spies and were free to love each other. Deep down they knew that would never happen in their lifetime, but in times like these, they could forget the world and just be with each other.

Owen was still asleep and Curt just stayed there, listening to his heartbeat. He never wanted this moment to end. Owen had been irritable as of late, Curt could tell there was something going on in his mind, but could also tell that Owen wouldn’t talk until he was ready, so he left it. The past week they’d spent in this safe house had mellowed him out, slowly bringing back his loving, albeit snarky, partner. Whatever had been on his mind was being forgotten, or at least pushed down, during their time together. Curt noticed how his demeanor was shifting, his smile reached his eyes more and the light inside them had come back. He liked to believe it was because of him. Curt buried his head in the crook of Owen’s neck, smiling to himself. He had the best partner anyone could ever ask for; he was his and only his. Even after 3 years, Curt’s heart swelled at the thought. 

He never thought of himself as a sappy person before he met Owen, and he definitely never thought Owen would be just as sappy in return. Curt loved being able to see that soft, loving side of him, as opposed to his cold, and quite frankly assholish, persona. It was something special, just for him. Owen shifted under him, breathing a soft sigh of content before opening his eyes. Curt raised himself onto his elbows to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

“Oh, saying good morning to yourself, are we?” Owen’s words were still slurred from sleep and Curt’s smile grew wider. 

“Hmm, no, I believe I was saying good morning to you, dear.” He leaned in to kiss him again, this time deeper and more thoughtful.  _ God he wished every morning could be spent like this. _ Owen’s hair had fallen into his eyes, it had gotten longer since the last time they’d seen each other and Curt absolutely adored it. At some point, Owen had brought up getting it cut and Curt had threatened to cut off his dick if he did that. Owen had just told him ‘Oh please, you like my dick too much for that.’ Curt really couldn’t disagree with him. 

When he finally pulled away, he spent a good moment just staring down at Owen, a soft smile on his lips and what was probably the most lovesick expression anyone could ever make. Owen idly twisted one of Curt’s curls around his finger, expression mirroring his own. “God, you’re beautiful,” Owen mumbled; that dumb, lopsided grin of his slipping onto his face. Curt couldn’t help the soft giggle escaping his lips.

“I could say the same about you,” he ended his words by pressing another soft kiss to the corner of Owen’s mouth, then his cheek, his jaw, and down his neck. Owen just sighed and continued stroking Curt’s hair. The rhythmic movement was beginning to put Curt back to sleep, but he fought to stay awake just to savor his time with Owen. They didn’t get to share time like this often, so it was something to cherish when it came. “I love you,” Curt said, lips against Owen’s neck, “God, I love you so, so much.”

“I love you more, darling.”

“Not possible,  _ love,”  _ Curt loved stealing the pet name from Owen, at first he did it to tease him, but now it had permanently wormed its way into his vocabulary.

“Oh trust, my dear, it is  _ very much  _ possible.” Owen leaned down to press a kiss to Curt’s head and he melted into the gesture. He pressed a kiss to Owen’s chest, he didn’t think he could get any happier than he was at this moment.

“Hmm, if you say so,” he moved back to Owen’s lips. Their kisses were sloppy and lazy, but sweet all the same. He pulled away and let his head fall back to Owen’s chest, breathing a sigh of content. “I want to scream how much I love you to the world, let everyone know you’re mine and I’m yours,” he grinned.

“I want to marry you,” it started as just a whisper, “I want to spend my whole life with you, to buy a house, raise a family, all of that domestic bullshit. I want that with you.” Curt’s heart ached at the words, knowing they’ll never be able to have that, not really. But he didn’t voice that.

“Then marry me,” he said instead, “Right here, right now. Marry me.” He looked up at him expectantly, desperately awaiting his response. 

“Yeah, I think I will.” He sat up, taking Curt’s hands in his own. “Curt Mega, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?”

Curt laughed and brushed a strand of hair behind Owen’s ear, “ _ Yeah, I think I will. _ ” He leaned in for what was probably the hundredth time that morning and pressed his lips to Owen’s. The kiss somehow held more emotion than all of their kisses combined, it was raw and beautiful. Curt rested his head against Owen’s, his eyes stayed closed. “So,  _ husband, _ what would you like to do now?”

“In all honesty, go back to sleep.” 

“Honestly same, I’m fucking exhausted. And it’s not like we have anything better to do.” So they drifted back to sleep, holding each other close and still wishing they could be closer. It didn’t matter that no one could ever know about their love together, or that they didn’t have rings to share; they knew that they loved each other. 

…

They only spent a month in that safe house, but it had been the best month of both their lives. There, they loved each other openly and wholeheartedly. Curt knew he would treasure the memories they made there for the rest of his life, and in whatever lay beyond those.

In their minds, they would have a real wedding. They would buy that house, raise a family, and grow old together. In their minds, they could have that. They could pretend, when they were together, that they weren’t spies and that they had a different life than the one they led. They could have that. Maybe, in another life, they had that for real. Whatever would come next for them, Curt refused to think about. If they were caught or killed couldn’t matter to him. He only let himself focus on the present, on what they had together at that point in time. They would deal with the future as it hit them, but until then, they would cherish what they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter to make myself stop crying and just ended up crying even more so...


	5. 1956

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about gun wounds and medical care, but it's fine. TW for blood and shit I guess

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ This was not supposed to happen. How could they be so careless and fuck up this badly? Okay. Okay. Okay.  _ Okay.  _ It’s fine. Everything will be fine. It’s just a bullet to the shoulder. Nothing too bad, just a little bullet to the shoulder. Owen slumped against Curt’s side as they stumbled back to their hotel. He could feel Owen’s blood soaking into his shirt as they walked.  _ It’s fine.  _

Owen was barely conscious but he seemed perfectly calm. Curt tried to remain calm but he was fucking freaking out. He had seen worse, he knew he had seen way worse. He was a spy goddammit, he’d killed people before. Countless people. But this was different. This was his partner, his best friend, his  _ lover.  _ His fucking husband was bleeding out next to him.  _ Okay, Curt, deep breaths.  _

They finally reached the hotel they’d been staying at and Curt rushed them to their room, trying to avoid as much attention as possible; which wasn’t hard seeing as it was three in the morning. Curt reached their door and fumbled for the room key before crashing in. He got Owen to the side of the bathtub and sat him down as gently as possible. He shook his uninjured shoulder, “Owen? Hey, Owen, you here darling?”

Owen’s eyes fluttered open briefly, he was just barely holding consciousness. He was losing a lot of blood and quick.  _ Fuck. _ Curt made quick work of removing Owen’s jacket and shirt, he used the shirt to soak up the excess blood. He stumbled around to find a first aid kit and got to work cleaning up all the blood and disinfecting the wound. The bullet was still lodged in his shoulder, but he would have to leave that to the doctors when they got back home. He did his best to bandage it up and got a glass of water and painkillers for when Owen came to. 

He slumped against the bathroom wall next to Owen. He’d have to clean up all the blood before anyone came in, but that could wait. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.  _ God, he was exhausted.  _ It didn’t matter if he saw wounds like this on an almost daily basis, it still sent him into a panic to see them, especially on someone he loved. He knew he had seen Owen with worse, hell, he had gotten worse himself. He took a deep breath, trying to will himself calm. He let out a bitter laugh and turned to look at Owen. He took his hand in his and gently shook it. “Owen? You awake yet?” He didn’t respond. “Owen?” his voice rose slightly, “Hey, Owen, wake up!” He brought his hand up to Owen’s face, gently caressing his cheek. “Love, you gotta wake up,” he lightly slapped his face, “Please.” Owen’s eyes opened and he smiled up at Curt.

“Got you.”

Curt scoffed, letting his head fall against Owen’s uninjured shoulder, “Fuck, Owen, don’t do that.”

“Oh but you’re so fun to mess with my dear.” Curt sat up and took Owen’s face in his hands, running his hands back through his hair. 

“How are you feeling?”  
“Like shit,” Owen laughed, “ Think you could kiss it better?” Curt rolled his eyes but still brought his lips to meet Owen’s. He only let it last a few seconds before pulling away.

“Here,” he handed Owen to painkillers and glass of water, “take those.”

“Oh, you are a  _ god _ .”

“No, I’m just prepared.” He really wasn’t, but he supposed it was better to fake confidence than let Owen see how freaked out he really was. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” He started pulling Owen up, quickly realising it would be futile unless Owen decided to at least try to stand as well. Thankfully, he did.

“Wow already desperate to have me, thanks darling,” he stumbled to his feet and leaned against Curt for support as they made their way to the bed. He was still unsteady from the bloodloss. 

“I mean to sleep, you prick.” He rolled his eyes before dropping Owen on the bed.

“Hey, careful!”

“It was your good side, you’ll be fine.” Curt sat next to him, watching as he sat up. Even after a day of working and bleeding out, he looked absolutely beautiful. Curt smiled to himself, he was lucky to have Owen with him, like this. He sighed, “You really scared me back there, you know?” Owen reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, I’m alright, love. I always am.”

“I know,” he looked down at their intertwined hands, “but what if you weren’t? What if one day you got hurt and you didn’t come back? How would I ever live with myself?”

“You’ll figure it out if that day ever comes, but don’t think about that. Just focus on the present Curt. Focus on us.” He leaned in and kissed him, doing all he could to comfort him. Curt melted into the kiss, letting all of the stress he built up throughout the day dissipate until there was nothing but Owen’s lips on his. He smiled against Owen’s lips and hoped he understood just how much he needed him. How he needed these moments with him where they could just be with each other away from agencies and prying eyes. Owen put a hand to his chest and gently pushed him back against the pillows, Curt let him. 

Owen pulled away slightly, just for a moment. “I love you.”

Curt just smiled back up at him, “I love you too.” And their lips met once again and it was bliss. It was all Curt could have ever asked for, more than he could ever dream. He had the man he loved right under his fingertips, pouring his heart and soul into him with every touch of his lips. He was truly laid bare, just for him to see. He may never truly know what went on in Owen’s head, but he found it no longer mattered. If he had him with him, everything would be alright.

What happened behind closed doors had to stay behind them. That’s why moments such as these could never leave their shabby little hotel rooms. They wished they could scream their love for each other to the whole world, but their world was an unforgiving one. They had already almost lost each other once. If it had been anyone but Cynthia to find out, they would be done for. If their secret were to ever get out again they would lose their jobs, hell, they could lose their lives. But as they kissed atop the threadbare sheets they couldn’t be bothered to care. In here, the world didn’t exist. There were no notions that what they were doing was ever wrong or sinful. To them, it was the finest luxury they had ever had.

In the morning they would part ways and probably wouldn't see each other for months. But now, they had each other, and that’s all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new drinking game: take a shot every time I use "They had each other and that's all that mattered" or something along those lines in my fics


	6. The Time Inbetween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is just... there idk  
> I just wanted a little buffer before all the pain
> 
> TW  
> mentions of suicide

_ "Oh, Curt Mega, you're going to be the death of me!" _

_"No, I'd never let you down!" His last words to Owen happened to be the biggest lie he'd ever tell._ _He watched as Owen slipped, just out of reach of Curt's outstretched arms. He fell. Down. Down. Down. He heard his body hit the floor below, the grotesque cracking of bones against pavement. All he could do was watch. He was helpless to stop it. His partner, his lover, died right in front of his eyes and all he could do was stand there and watch._

_ Curt felt sick, doubling over as he turned away and stumbled out of the collapsing building. What's done was done and there was nothing he could do to change that. He would just have to live with the consequences. _

…

The nightmares never stopped. Every time Curt closed his eyes he saw it. Owen. Falling. The sound of his body shattering as it connected with the ground rung in his ears. Whenever his eyes were closed, he was back in that moment, an endless loop of watching the love of his life fall to his death, completely powerless to stop it.  _ It was his fault. _ Curt knew it was. He was the one who had been careless. He was the one who had left that damned banana peel on the stairs. He was the one who lied and set the timer for three minutes instead of four. He was the one who had killed his partner. He was the only one to blame. Curt didn't sleep much anymore.

After Owen's death, Curt left the A.S.S., not permanently, he was only taking a 'grieving period'. He didn't know when he would go back. He fell back into his old habits. Going out drinking every night, which soon leaked into his mornings, until it was a rare sight for him to be sober. His mother worried. He hated having her worry about him, but he was powerless to stop it. She didn't know the full extent of his grief, and if she thought it was strange for someone to grieve this much over the loss of a mere colleague and 'friend', she didn't let it show. He loved her and he knew she loved him, but he could never tell her just how much Owen had meant to him. It killed him inside. 

It wasn't only his sleep that was plagued by the memory, it overtook his waking life, too. Every time he saw something that reminded him of Owen, maybe a book he used to read or a jacket like what he used to wear or even someone who just looked like him, the memories came crashing back. They were always there, in the back of his mind, playing over and over and over again. A broken record. He stopped leaving the house for a while, the outside world just too much for him to handle. There were too many things out there to remind him of Owen.

Curt became careless. He neglected his needs and ignored anyone who tried to reach out to him. He brought home parades of 'drinking buddies' to try and fill the hole that Owen had left, but nothing ever stuck. He was falling apart and all he could do was sit back and watch as his life crumbled before him. 

He wished he was the one who fell that night. He thought about it every night. Some nights he felt like he should just jump himself, to join Owen in whatever lay beyond, but he never let those thoughts take over him. He knew Owen would never forgive him for that. He knew he couldn't do that to his mother, he didn't want anyone to ever have to go through what he went through. Losing a loved one like that wasn't something you could just get over. It took years and years of self-hatred and regret and just barely getting by, and even then it might never  _ get better _ . He was just learning that the hard way.

That first year was the hardest, the second only slightly better. He slowly let people back into his life. He stopped the constant hook-ups, having found that nothing was the same without Owen. He tried to make friends again. He was still rarely sober, but it wasn't as extreme as it had once been. Though the thought of jumping hadn't left and what little sleep he got was still plagued by nightmares, he felt that it would get better someday. He knew it wouldn't be that year, maybe not even in the next five years, but he knew it would get better. He was healing, slowly, but still healing.

The third year, things started looking up again. He thought about returning to work, although he never did. He drank less, he still wasn't sober but he had begun to find a balance. He had mostly accepted Owen's death. He wasn't okay with it, but he knew there was nothing he could have done to change it. But even though he felt as if he might be able to move on, his fears still stuck in the darkest corners of his mind. The memories he'd never be able to erase snuck out at night, taking hold of him. The nightmares never left, he didn't think they ever would. The urge to jump persisted, but it was beginning to look less appealing.

The fourth year is when he finally decided to make things right. He vowed to quit drinking. He wanted Owen to look down on him and be proud. He wanted him to know that he was alright. He wanted to be a spy again, to save the world again. He wanted that familiar thrill of just barely escaping the enemy. He wanted to hop in a jet and fly again, to drink martinis and drive again. But most importantly, he needed to get his life right again.

So, he rejoined the A.S.S. He took on a new mission and went forward to save the world yet again. Agent Curt Mega, one of the greatest spies to ever live. He knew Owen would want this for him, that he would be proud. And besides, once a spy, always a spy. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo one more to go :)


	7. 1961

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, gays, we've reached the end. It's been nice y'all

_“Personal history does have its benefits, Mega.”_ Curt froze. This couldn’t be right. That was Owen’s voice. That’s what he had said to him when they found each other on that godforsaken mission. This isn’t happening. What the fuck _is_ happening? He watched as the Deadliest Man Alive _(Owen?_ ) backed out of the room, reaching up to pull at his face. He reemerged, mask in hand, Owen’s face staring back at him. Curt felt like he was going to be sick. What the _fuck_ ? How could this be happening? Owen had died. _Curt had left him for dead four years ago._ He was dead. He knew he was dead. So how the fuck was he here now? They had all lowered their guns as Owen stepped out. It was Tatiana who managed to speak first. “Owen?”

Owen tossed the mask to the ground, throwing a lopsided smile his way, “Hello, Curt. Long time no see.” Curt couldn’t say anything, it felt like his throat was closing up to choke him. He could barely breathe. “The Deadliest Man Alive. What a juicy character, eh? If it hadn’t been for my spot-on aim and interest in foreign policy, you know, well, I might have been an actor.” He laughed, as if this was all normal. As if he hadn’t _been dead for four years._ “Well, you know it takes quite a bit of discipline to research and rehearse a role to perfection. So that when the lights go up, and it’s showtime, you’re ready.” He pulled on his old jacket. _The jacket he wore when he died._ “Or we can just do things your way and simply wing it. But we all know how that turns out, right?” Curt could finally get the words out.

“How- How are you here? Why are you here? I watched you _fall. You’re dead.”_ Curt desperately tried to steady his shaking hands. _This wasn’t supposed to go like this._

“Well, part of me is. Hell, I probably spent as much time hating you as you did. But then I realised what that night had taught me. Perhaps putting the fate of the world in the hands of an arrogant, impulsive _brute,_ is simply not the best option.” He let out a bitter laugh before Tatiana cut in.

“So you felt asking the Nazis for help would be a good idea?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” his laugh was bordering on hysterical, “I’ve been manipulating Von Nazi from the very beginning. The fool was an expendable puppet.” He bent down to Von Nazi’s corpse,”‘Look at me, I keep glitter up my sleeve, waka waka! No, no, no, no, no,” he placed his hat over his face, before standing back up, “His plan was merely a prologue. We haven’t even reached our second act climax yet.”

“Our?”

“Ah, well, you see, after my accident I, uh, I met someone who invited me into the fold of a little group he’s been organising. Inventors, entrepreneurs, politicians mostly. I’ve gotten very close with its director and done quite a bit of networking in our industry. Damn, I really should have been an actor. You see, the attendees of this little society are all pooling their collective influences and wealth to try and create a better world. We call ourselves, _Chimera_.”

“The fire-breathing creature from Greek mythology,” it was the Informant who spoke, “Body of a lion, head of a goat, and dragon on its back.”

“With wings and a tail that is a snake,” Tatiana finished for him.

Owen clapped, “We got a little bit of everything! Well done you two. Curt always had a penchant for surrounding himself with colleagues smarter than himself.”

Curt snapped, “This Chimera was what- funding Von Nazi’s schemes?” 

“Oh, very good Curt, finally catching up with the rest of us!” Owen mocked.

“But what use is a Nazi nation to Chimera?” It broke Curt to see Owen acting this cold.

“I don’t have all day for your bird brain to figure it out, Curt.” 

“Bird?” Tatiana paused, “Little birdies? His scientists developing? You’re after the technology.” Owen jumped up, clapping once again.

“Pop goes the weasel! An advanced Nazi information surveillance network to connect and archive state secrets.”

“Why drag this out till now if you have had it the entire time?”

“Yes, but I didn’t yet have this,” he took out and unfolded a piece of paper, showing it off to them.

“The deed to build a Nazi castle on Prussian land,” the Informant stated.

“It’s not what’s on the land, my boy, but what’s under it.”

“Dirt?” Owen gave her an incredulous look.

“...No.”

“Rocks?”

“Closer.”

“Dinosaurs.”

“I,” Owen let out a frustrated groan, taking a deep breath before continuing, “No, the largest wealth of pure unmined natural silicon the world had ever seen!”

“Ah..” They were all unimpressed.

“Don’t you get it? Those stores of silicon beneath the Earth’s crust will allow us to mass-produce Von Nazi’s technology and deploy his system on a global scale!” Owen was becoming deranged. Whatever Chimera had been feeding into his brain had clearly stripped away every last bit of the man he once was. That wasn’t his Owen talking to them, that was a complete stranger. “I’d have all the world’s secrets, I’d be God.” This wasn’t Owen. _What happened to the man he knew?_ “Now, what a world that would be, eh?”

“My government will never allow this,” Curt had to fight against his every instinct to stay calm, to not rush forward and grab Owen.

“Not even the Soviets will.”

“Not at first, no,” Owen explained, “Everybody likes to do the watching, but no one likes to be watched.”

“You can’t just invade the privacy of civilians without reason or suspicion!” Curt thought about the implications of what Tatiana had said. _No secrets._ If they lived in a world without secrets, he’d be dead. He’d never have had what he once had with Owen. _How could Owen know that and support this ludicrous plan?_

“Well, I like to think we are just turning everyone into a spy, they just aren’t aware of it.” This was insane. How could he believe in this?

“Good thing we’re here to stop you!” He raised his gun, the others followed suit. “Give it up!”

“What?”

“The technology! The surveillance network,” he glanced back at the others before settling his gaze back on Owen, “We’re going to destroy it.”

Owen let out another bark of laughter, “You bloody idiots! It’s not just some casefile of something you could hold in your hand, the current system is as big as an entire warehouse, nay, compound. And it’s filled with enormous computing consoles. And it takes up an entire island in the Pacific Ocean!” They gasped. _How would they be able to destroy this?_ “Well, I’m off. Terribly late for dinner with my new friends. A bit of advice, dear, if you choose to work with the infamous Curt Mega, take caution, his partners don’t tend to last.” With that, he shot the Informant, “Always end on a high note, they say.” Curt rushed forward to grab the Informant before he fell, lowering him into a chair. “Well, the fate of the world is in your hands, Curt. _Are you going to go after me? Or are you going to go after the machine?_ I think I know which one you’ll choose. Oh, and Tatiana, _don’t slip up.”_ And he was gone.

“I guess this is where my story ends. In the Old Socialist New… Democratic…” the Informant collapsed. Curt could only stand and watch.

“I’ll locate the island and destroy the system.”

“No,” Curt interjected, “I should be the one. I _need_ to be the one.” He moved to stand next to Tatiana, leaving the Informant’s body behind him.

“What you _need_ is to go after Owen,” Tatiana said. She barely knew him and yet she knew exactly what he needed.

“Thank you,” he stuck his hand out, “partner.” She took it.

“Go.” He did.

…

“Time to take your final bow, Curt.”

“My team is destroying your island facility as we speak. Your surveillance network is fried!” he smiled, “There’ll be no encore tonight. _For you._ ”

“Perhaps you’ve destroyed that island facility,” he gestured with his gun, previously aimed at Curt’s head, “but what about the others?”

“There’s more?” _Fuck. There’s more._ He thought he finally had the upper hand, but Owen was still one step ahead.

“How does it feel to know you’ll never catch up with us?” Curt lowered his gun, breathing heavily. _This wasn’t how this was supposed to go._

“It’s not too late to fix this,” he tried. He had to get Owen back, this was his only chance, “If you agree to give up Chimera, I’m sure the agency can pull some strings-”

“You still don’t see, do you, Curt!” Curt froze, this was the angriest he had ever seen Owen. In all the time they’d known each other, he’d never yelled like this. Not at anyone. _Not at him._ “There won’t be any agency to go back to once the system is global. I’m going to single-handedly dismantle _everything_ you’ve ever believed in!” He repositioned his gun back to Curt’s head. _How could he talk him down from this?_

“We used to share those beliefs,” his voice shook, but he fought to keep the confidence in his voice, “Think of the missions we served. The lives we saved. The impact we had on this world. _Together._ Two of the greatest spies to ever live.” Curt was barely holding it together, but he had to keep trying. He couldn’t lose Owen a second time. He had to get him back, even if he was acting like a stranger, _that was Owen._ He had to at least try. “And you consider that, and you look me in the eyes, and you tell me you don’t believe we’re making a difference!”

“The future is happening, Curt, and it’s not going to wait for you. What use will one man be, when a box in a room can do his job in seconds, huh?” His gun had lowered once again.

“Sounds boring.”

“You’re a caveman, and I’ve invented fire.” Curt was running out of time. He couldn't win this.

“I’ll stop you!”

“You’ll do your best. _Once a spy, always a spy. Forever... whatever. The warmest hello, to the coldest goodbye. Remember. I remember,”_ he cocked his gun, “ _Spies never die…”_ he aimed. “A new world awaits us, Curt. A world without agencies, a world without spies, a world without _secrets.”_ Curt couldn’t look at him, it was too much. Everything was too much.

“Some secrets aren’t yours to share,” but he forced himself to look at Owen, to take a step forward, “What about our secret. The time we shared. The feelings we had,” he took another step forward, willing every bone in his body for the strength to do this, “ _for each other.”_ Owen’s gun had lowered to aim at his heart. “ _Are you ready to share that with the world?”_ There was a long pause where neither of them said anything. _Please work,_ Curt begged. But Owen brought his gun back to Curt’s head.

“That secret died the night you left me for dead.”

Curt shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “ _Clearly.”_ Curt stepped down, looking away once again. He was failing. He knew there were only two ways this could end. With him dead, or Owen. _That’s not Owen,_ he reminded himself, _it’s a stranger in his body._

“Here’s some advice Curt. It’s called moving on, do give it a try.” Curt knew what he had to do. He turned, and before Owen could react, shot the gun out of his hand.

“You know killing me won’t take the system offline so,” Curt moved forward, gun fixed on Owen’s head, “what are you doing?” Curt didn’t stop until the gun was almost pressed against Owen’s forehead. It took all of his willpower to do what he did next.

“Taking your advice.”

He fired, praying to whatever god was out there that his hands would remain steady, that he wouldn’t falter. The shot echoed around him as he watched Owen’s now lifeless body fall back. The blood pooling beneath him cemented Curt back to reality. He had killed him. The man that he had once loved, killed by his own hand. _No,_ he thought, _that man had died four years ago._ The body lying in front of him was not the same, just a hollowed shell of who he used to be. Whatever Chimera had done to him had killed Owen, not Curt. That’s what Curt kept telling himself as his body slumped against the wall. As he dropped the gun. As he went down the stairs in a daze. He should call Tati, tell her what had happened and get someone to clean up the body, but he didn’t. He just let the mantra continue in his head. _Owen was already dead._

It was only when Curt had reached the ground that he let himself cry. It overtook him like waves crashing against the shore. He was shaking, his legs refused to support him. So he let himself fall. It was dark and wet and much too quiet. _How could the world be so calm after what had just happened?_ Life was continuing on around him, oblivious to the horrors he had had to face mere minutes before. Sobs shook through his body as he let reality wash over him. Owen was dead, there was no changing that. There was no going back now, what’s done was done. He would just have to live with the consequences. He wished he could go back in time, to before that godforsaken mission. Back to when Owen was his, the _real_ Owen; not the shell that lay stories above him, bleeding out on the concrete stairs. In that moment, Curt wished he could have kissed him one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're done! I hope y'all enjoyed, as always kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, as well as constructive criticism
> 
> Also, seeing as my classes have been moved online for the near future, I have a lot of free time on my hands, so if you have any prompt requests you can leave them here or on my  
> [Tumblr](https://gaygh0stt.tumblr.com/) :)


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